


E Company Snippets

by ALovelyDay



Category: Band of Brothers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-03-20 08:52:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13714254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALovelyDay/pseuds/ALovelyDay
Summary: Drabbles written using the 100 Writing Prompts Challenge.





	1. Dance

It started as a drunken bet one night in Toccoa. The boys had gotten off lightly with training and, having had extra energy to spare, decided to clear out an unoccupied barrack for a bit of fun. Someone had nabbed a gramophone and thus the impromptu dance-off had started. Liebgott was the first to get up and had dragged Webster with him, pirouetting the flustered Harvard boy and making exaggerated swooning noises whenever he dipped his head back, leaving the rest of second battalion roaring with laughter.

“Bull, get up, let’s show these idiots how to do it.” Said man groaned as he was made to get up by an intoxicated Johnny Martin.

“Johnny, you’re drunk.”

“Yeah. Only reason why I think this is a good fuckin’ idea,” was Johnny’s only reply before he thrust Bull and himself out onto the dance-floor.


	2. Treat

Johnny found that the spaghetti really didn’t taste as good coming up as it had going down. And while he’d just emptied his dinner all over his white PT gear, he somehow still kept going. Running on pure adrenaline and spite, no doubt. Up Currahee with the other poor sods from his company. Sobel somewhere at the front, probably taking an enormous amount of glee in seeing his men in their current state of distress and nausea.

“”Treat”my ass,” Johnny heard Bill Guarnere huff behind him as they kept running up the rocky hill.


	3. Sand

“Thank God you convinced me to come with you,”Lewis moaned. He sat perched on a small grass hill, just at the divide between beach and forest, digging his bare feet into the fine sand. Dick couldn’t help but smile at the look of pure bliss on the others face. It was Dick who had suggested a holiday after everything they’d been through. And since there was no longer a war they were needed in, why not take advantage of the free time? Although once they were here, even Dick had to admit that Portugal was even nicer than he’d imagined.

“I’ll go set up the parasol and chairs,”he chuckled and walked past Lewis, who was still engrossed in the feeling of being allowed, for once, to completely relax.


	4. Salt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of Toye/Guarnere fluff

The air was cold and dusty in the small room they’d claimed for themselves in the old German house. Lying on a proper bed for the first time in months, Joe Toye tried to get some rest. He was still in full uniform, just dozing, as he knew he was up for the night shift soon. Beside him on the bed lay Bill Guarnere. He could feel his form shivering, no doubt dreaming about one of the many awful things they’d had to endure whilst being deployed in Europe. Joe could relate. They all had nights like that. But it still annoyed him that his short time off to rest was being so rudely interrupted. He sighed and wished he’d bunked with Luz instead.

“G-get offa me, fucker,” he heard Bill mumble. Joe frowned and turned to face the other. Bill was in just his skivvies and a wife-beater, all casual and supposed to get a good night’s sleep. Not be tossing about in a cold sweat. Joe gently put a hand on the other’s chest to coax him awake.

“Bill. Hey, come on,” Joe murmured and shifted closer. Bill groaned again in his sleep, apparently busy fighting off some imaginary foe.

“Hey man, it’s just a nightmare. Come on, Bill,” Joe tried again, more insistent this time.

Suddenly, Bill’s eyes flew open and he grabbed Joe’s hand in a vice-like grip. Joe yelped and drew his hand back before cursing loudly.

“What the fuck!” He snarled and shook his hand free, flailing it at the pain of being gripped so harshly. When he finally looked back up, he saw Bill staring at him, wide-eyed and panting.

“Joe? The fuck are you doing?” he breathed, and Joe ran his non-smarting hand down his face at the other’s obliviousness.

“You had a nightmare. Turning so bad I couldn’t get to sleep,” he mumbled and looked away.

“Oh,” was all Bill said. Joe couldn’t make out in the dim light if the other looked embarrassed or not but he figured it didn’t matter.

“Let’s just go back to sleep, aight? I got a night shift comin’ up. ‘S why I’m still in my gear. Was plannin’ on gettin’ a lil shut eye before you kept me up screamin’ at dead krauts,” Joe babbled. 

“...Right,” Bill said absently. Joe hoped that was that and they could brush this whole incident off. He was about to turn away from Bill before he was tugged back to face the other again, their faces inches apart. Joe was about to ask what Bill was doing before Bill surged up close to Joe, pressing their lips together. It was bruising and short, a kiss that took Joe by surprise but easily melted into. He hadn’t fooled around with Bill in a while, and the simple act lit his insides like a firecracker. It felt good. Like something they’d both needed. Joe suddenly found he was glad he decided not to bunk with Luz.

Bill finally broke the kiss, a long sigh escaping his mouth. He looked both tired and sated and Joe realized he felt the same. No regrets, just deep satisfaction at how alright he was in that moment, despite nightmares and insomnia and all the messed up things currently happening in the world.

“Thanks, Joe,” Bill murmured against Joe’s mouth. “For waking me up.” Joe chuckled and tilted his face close.

“Any time,” he said, and licked at the other’s lips, tasting sweat and salt.


	5. Clip

Johnny Martin was just about to reload his rifle when he came to an irritating realization.

“Ah, shit. Hey, Frank, you got any spare ammo?”

“Nope,” came the reply from the other side of their shared foxhole. He was about to point out that Frank hadn’t so much as looked up from the cup of coffee he was currently cradling, but Johnny figured that as low on bullets as they were, it wasn’t hard to keep count in their head. Still, he cursed to himself as this meant he’d have to abandon the relative warmth of the foxhole to go scrounge up some ammo where he could.

Johnny quickly hauled himself up and out, onto the frozen ground, and into the winter landscape of Bastogne his company had been forced to call home for the past few months.

He drew his scarf to cover his mouth and nose, ignoring the damp sensation whenever he breathed out. Better than getting icicles up his nose again, Johnny figured.

He’d made his way almost back to camp when he passed by a shallow foxhole. By the look of the armband on the man curled up inside, Johnny could tell it was one of their medics. Just as he was about to call out in greeting, he accidentally stepped on a large twig, eliciting a loud snap, and doc Roe jerked his head up to stare at him.

\--

Eugene Roe was lost in thought. He’d just had to help two soldiers with arms and legs full of shrapnel up onto a busted Jeep. No plasma, barely any morphine. His breath fogged the air and dampened his fingers as he withdrew his rosary and held it close to his face. He knew it wasn’t good for him but he couldn’t stop himself from worrying about their fate and was now praying for their safety in Renee’s hands. 

As he went through his prayer in his head he was startled by the loud sound of a twig snapping behind him. He turned his head and found himself looking up at a shivering Johnny Martin.

“Ah jeez, sorry, doc. Didn’t mean to scare you,” Johnny quickly apologized. He withdrew his hands from where they’d been hugging himself and held them up in defence. Eugene blinked a few times before processing that he wasn’t being attacked. He nodded stiffly before turning back, shuffling and once again curling in on himself. Johnny raised an eyebrow at the medic’s awkward display.

\--

“You alright there, Doc?” Johnny said, attempting a joke. The medic didn’t respond. Johnny sighed to himself and figured there was no use in trying to push the other into a chat. Maybe the doc was trying to catch some sleep, before the inevitable shelling began and he’d be needed, Johnny mused. He tried not to think of the hollow look in the other’s eyes, or the dark bags underneath them.

\--

Eugene heard the sound of footsteps start up behind him before growing faint. He unclenched the hand holding the rosary, beginning once again to count each bead and murmuring words of prayer. 

\--  
Ultimately, Johnny only managed to beg himself to a couple of rounds of ammo. Not nearly enough but at least he felt a fraction more safe. He passed doc Roe’s foxhole on the way back. Empty now, save for the indentation of where the medic had been resting. Johnny sniffed and drew his scarf tighter around himself. He made his way back to the foxhole he shared with Frank and wowed to himself not to do anything stupid, lest he’d cause the company medic even more grief.


	6. Bread

It wasn’t often E company got to enjoy a home cooked meal, but the liberated people of Eindhoven seemed all too eager to help remedy this. When Winters received the invitation to dine with the Dutch, he’d first told Nixon that he was reluctant. He said he didn’t know if it was proper to let the men fraternize with civilians.

“You’re only worried we’ll embarrass ourselves,” Nixon had chuckled.

In the end, Winters relented. He let his men enjoy a feast of home-baked goods and local beer. In turn the men tried sharing some of their own rations, but the Dutch insisted that the liberation of their town was more than payment enough.

Nixon winked at his CO when he saw him spread rich dollops of home-made butter and jam on a large loaf of bread. Winters only smiled sheepishly before he dug in, closing his eyes to savor the taste.


	7. Fish

It was a ridiculous idea, but Muck refused to let it go. He’d recruited Malarkey and Penkala with him on the ludicrous excursion and only the former seemed to have any kind of protest against it.

“Fishing? Really?”

“Why not? I heard there’s plenty in the lake. Besides, I’m fucking sick of oatmeal.”

Penkala had agreed and Malarkey found he couldn’t really argue with that. Either they caught nothing, and the other guys would laugh at them in the evening, or they actually made a catch that could feed them better than the slop they’d been consuming for the past week. And anyways, Malarkey mused, as he looked out at the fishing spot his friends had scoped out, overlooking a sleepy lake bathed in sunlight, there were worse ways to spend an afternoon.


	8. Chapter 8

“It’s not a damn race!” Lipton chided as his men rushed past him and into the surrounding buildings. He heard cheers of “I’m taking this room!” and “Sweet, there’s a bathroom next to mine!” while displaced German residents were herded into the streets. Lipton tried not to feel guilty, some of them might be nazis after all, but he couldn’t help but wish the boys wouldn’t holler and snicker so much when they were essentially strong-arming their way into the homes of a dozen families.

_Just for one night,_ Lipton thought while wrestling with his conscience. _It’s alright, my men deserve some comfort, it’s just for one night…_


End file.
